The Penalty Box

Chapter 12

I sat on the bleachers watching my little brother surprisingly kick butt. His team was up by five. For them that was a miracle in itself.

" He's gotta take the shot," Cooter mumbled beside me.

I nodded in agreement, Jared could score one more goal before the game ended if he'd just rip it, " He's hesitating."

" RIP IT JARED!" Mason yelled almost rupturing my eardrums. Jared must have heard him;he brought his stick back and put all his weight on it as the blade collided with the puck. The puck went whizzing towards the net. The goalie, though he tried, didn't have time to stop the puck before it flew into the back of the net.

I shot up and cheered, Jared's team emptied the bench and piled on him. He just won the game, he just won a game. My little brother spotted us and waved before skating off with his team, " He won," I smiled.

We all this took Jared out for pizza. The little goon in the making deserved it.

" He's like Charlie isn't he?" Lilly questioned.

I smiled at my little brother and my big brother both playing some war game " Yeah, but when it comes to hockey, that kid is a goon in the making," I laughed.

" You know Cooter has an older brother, right?"

I looked over at her and nodded, I wasn't looking forward to meeting him when he comes back from the minors, " Yep, heard he's a bigger donkey butt than Cootes," I laughed.

" I will actually let that side, because I s right," Cooter laughed from across the room.

I smiled and grabbed another slice of pizza. I really didn't care about pigging out, I'm aloud.

The next day at practice though was a different story. Coach wasn't happy with our recent game play, meaning... suicides. Lots and lots of them. Thanks to Mason and Cooter, I was able to keep up.. yeah I'm still going to privet 'no goon' lessons with them. Mason's favorite thing to do to me, is make me skate.

" I hate this," Connor Jepson muttered trying not to fall again.

" Yeah well, it's our doing," I laughed. I have to admit, speed is one nice thing. Finally coach blew his fricken whistle signaling the end of torture.

" Alright team, were going up to New York this weekend and go to Canada from there. Be at the bus by 7:30 tomorrow morning. If you're late you don't play," he paused before looking at me," Smith, be ready to get wrecked more than you ever have at a game. These New York teams we're playing don't play nice."

With that he walked off the ice leaving all of us there heaving from the bagskate.

" I'm gonna die," I mumbled falling on the ice, " I'm going to get in a fight and die."

" Way to be positive Cally," Mason laughed.

I pulled myself up off the ice and managed to get into the lockerooms before clasping. I got all my gear off one handed. My wrist was black and blue from bruises, and I could hardly move it without seering pain.

I strapped my brace on, almost crying in the process. If I didn't have so much on the line I would go to the trainer.

Parker would kill me. He was friends with my brother in high school, they used to play together. Parker swore to like protect me. He used to baby me... that is until I decked him in pick up.

I pulled my hoodie on making sure to cover my brace. I slung my hockey bag on my shoulder and grabbed my sticks before walking out.

" Smith you okay over there?" Parker questioned.

" Yeah all good," I mustered a smile before walking away.

One more day and I'd be all the way up the coast in NYC and then to Canada.

" Get a good nights sleep, they have an Xbox or two on the bus."

I laughed, that always meant all night long NHL tournaments," Right, I'll still steal the cup," I once again slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the rink to Cooter's car.

Yes I'm sixteen and I don't have a car, or a license. My mom wouldn't even let me take my drivers test... due to grades and hockey habits. But I'm working on getting it.

" Ready? Some of the guys are heading to Bojangles," Cooter smiled turning on the engine.

"Yeah sure whatever you want to do," I said quickly. I just wanted a cortisone shot for my wrist. I'm pretty sure they don't have those at CookOut or Bojangles where ever we're going.

"You okay?" He asked me as we pulled into the Bojangles parking lot.

" Just fine Cootes, just sore."

He looked at me, his eyes basically boring a hole into my soul. His blue grey eyes were stern but still soft.

"No you're not," he sighed, " What's wrong? You can tell me."

" I'm fine," I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. Trying to get away from him. Cooter is great, but if I told him about my wrist. He'd tell Mason, and Mason would tell coach. Meaning I'd be benched the day before NYC.

There is no way I'm letting that happen.